


Britishly Evil Things

by spj



Series: Trick or Treat! [3]
Category: Yu-Gi-Oh the Abridged Series
Genre: M/M, spanish soap operas, trust me it almost makes sense
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-04
Updated: 2017-10-04
Packaged: 2019-01-08 20:36:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12261624
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spj/pseuds/spj
Summary: Bakura tries to leave, but is foiled again! by Marik not knowing what words are.





	Britishly Evil Things

**Author's Note:**

> IM *puff* FINALLY *huff* CAUGHT *puff* UP  
> sorta  
> i'll be fucked in a couple of days haha
> 
> my feelings on this: i am so so so so rry i dont know why i did this  
> please forgive me
> 
> Halloween Advent, Day 3  
> Prompt: Leaves (im 100% sure this isnt what you meant fini and i am sorry)

Marik was distraught, half-bent over the couch that split their meagre living-area-slash-kitchen into two halves. “No, you can’t leave!”

“I’m afraid… I must.” Bakura set down his duffel bag (did he really have only that many shirts? Every time they went out to vacation together, they brought at least two large suitcases!) and laid the back of his hand on his forehead, and actually, that posture looked really familiar…

“Hey!” Marik objected. He stiffened his stomach and finally gravity helped him fall over the edge of the couch. He scrambled to his feet. “You can’t just pretend to be Eduardo! Only Eduardo can be Eduardo!”

Bakura scoffed, dropping his arm lamely to his side. He didn’t pick up his duffel bag. “I’m far better looking than _Eduardo_.”

Marik gasped. “Don’t! Insult! Eduardo! You’ll break Maria’s heart!”

“Oh, screw Maria’s heart,” Bakura snapped, and that’s how Marik knew Bakura was well and truly mad. Bakura _loved_ Maria. He leapt onto the couch every time Maria said something sassy, shouting, ‘That’s right, Maria! Tell that bastard like it is! Don’t hold anything back, Maria!’

Bakura seemed to recall the same thing Marik did, because he corrected, “I like Maria. She doesn’t deserve to be brought up in an argument.”

“Argument?” Marik tilted his head sideways. “We’re arguing?”

Bakura cast him a wary glance. “I thought we were.”

“Well, we’re not,” Marik said matter-of-factly. “Arguments have yelling and maiming and killing, and nobody is yelling. Or maiming. Or killing.”

“I could very easily rectify that,” Bakura grumbled.

“What?” Marik said loudly. “I didn’t hear that.”

Bakura turned the full force of his sweetest smile on Marik, the one Marik _knew_ he knew Marik couldn’t resist. “I said, I’d be happy to kill you, love.”

“Eeeewww!” Marik felt jitters crawl all over his skin. “Don’t call me love! I’m not gay! I just like long, hard, slightly mushroom-shaped objects!”

“I know you’re not,” Bakura sighed. “I’m British.”

“You British people are weird.”

“Yes, well. I don’t even know why we’re still talking. Goodbye.”

Marik flailed. “Waaaait, wait wait wait wait wait! You still didn’t tell me why you’re leaving! Who will make me food if you go? Who will give me massages? Or play the video-games with me?”

“I’m sure Slenderman will keep you company.”

“I don’t want Slenderman! Slenderman is creepy! He touched my buttox!”

The air around Bakura turned stone-cold, reminding Marik of his childhood home. He shivered.

“Is that so?” Bakura said, and these were the times that Marik was reminded that Bakura _actually_ killed people sometimes. Like, without mind-control and stuff. Freaking weirdo. “I suppose I’ll have to pay him a visit on my way out, then.”

Marik felt himself growing frustrated. Bakura was so mysteriously British it got annoying sometimes. “Hey, wait! You still didn’t tell me – _where are you going_?!”

“I’m leaving,” Bakura said, and the words came so easily that Marik had a hard time believing Bakura had spent so long avoiding the subject at all.

“But why?” Marik demanded. “Did I not just say you are to be my massage-er forever?”

“You didn’t, but sooner or later you will have to massage your own back.”

“That’s impossible! Then there wouldn’t be any massage-ers!”

“For the love of Ra, Marik!” Bakura growled. “I just need to go do some… Britishly Evil™ things. I’ll be back before you know it.”

“Oh, well, in that case, goodbye, and get me a souvenir,” Marik said, swinging himself back over the couch and picking up the remote. Now no one would fight with him over the channels! And by the time he got bored with the Home Improvement Channel, Bakura would be back and all would be well again.

The door shut quietly as Chris paused in his balsa wood explanation to take a quick breath.


End file.
